


There Might Be A Life Here

by thelilacfield



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: 5+1 Things, Domestic Fluff, F/M, Light Angst, Pre-Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-20
Updated: 2018-09-20
Packaged: 2019-07-14 17:04:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,125
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16044803
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thelilacfield/pseuds/thelilacfield
Summary: He wants them to be normal. Just on a weekend away, staying in their tiny hotel room, the slant of her smile when she kisses him. Her warmth next to him, the sweetness of her breath on the back of his neck, the way she murmurs in her sleep. With Wanda, it feels natural. It feels normal.Five times Vision left Wanda, and the time he didn't.





	There Might Be A Life Here

**A/N:** Written for awkward-fairy-889 over on tumblr. Hope everyone enjoys this!

* * *

**1.**

" _...it has now been two weeks since the breach of the Raft prison and the escape of four prisoners. While Clint Barton and Scott Lang have returned to the US under strict guidelines and house arrest, it seems that Sam Wilson and Wanda Maximoff have vanished into thin air."_

"Ridiculous," comes the sniff of the woman turning the dial of the radio, and he just nods wordlessly. Trying to regain control over his heartbeat after the skip and the swoop that accompanied the sound of her name. "I heard they left a clear trail and the government just can't be bothered following it."

"I believe they're first focusing on reinforcing the Raft's security so nothing like this can happen again," he says, and she arches an eyebrow and rolls her eyes.

"Perhaps they should have done that before they arrested a bunch of former Avengers," she says, and he tries to nod sympathetically and not to fidget. "Of course, if Stark was interested in helping, maybe they'd already have caught everyone they're looking for. But I hear he's far more interested in rekindling that spark with his ex than trying to help catch former teammates."

"You have to have sympathy for him," he says, and the woman narrows her eyes at him. "He's trying to keep his team together while Colonel Rhodes is recovering. It can't be an easy task."

"Oh, don't get me  _started_  on Colonel Rhodes," she says, shifting in her seat with an imperious rustle of the newspaper in front of her. "That whole affair could've been avoided, I'm sure. God knows why they're being so guarded about how it happened. May as well just admit it, don't know why they'd want to protect any of those criminals who didn't sign the Accords."

Swallowing the uncomfortable lump in his throat, he just nods, and hastily says, "This is my stop." Trying to walk in measured steps and not bolt off the train, pulling the scrap of paper Barton left by the coffee machine out of his pocket and smoothing it out again. Mouthing the address to himself, though it's been engraved on his heart in the two weeks since Barton and Lang's hearing.

Adjusting his sunglasses to compensate for the blazing light, starting slightly at the still unfamiliar feeling of his own hair brushing against his fingers, he walks down the streets trying to look purposeful. Not suspicious. Just another tourist in sunglasses and bright clothes, following the signs to a tiny café tucked down a cobbled alleyway, a small sign in the window proclaiming  _GLUTEN-FREE OPTIONS AVAILABLE_.

He slips through the door at exactly three twenty-six, tucking his sunglasses into the front of his shirt and choosing a secluded table at the back. Fidgeting with his clothes, smoothing his pale slacks over and over again, burying himself in the menu but unable to keep his gaze from flickering to the door over and over again. He's barely even reading the words on the page, having to wave away the dark-haired waitress with profuse apologies that he hasn't made his decision yet.

It takes all of his willpower not to shoot to his feet when the door swings open with a merry jingle of the bell and he recognises everything about the woman walking in. Even though her eyes are hidden behind oversized square sunglasses and her hair chopped short, curling in the humidity and half-hidden under a baseball cap, he knows her. The way she moves, her slender fingers entirely free of rings, the shadowed line of her jaw, the way she stands like she's ready to run while she looks around the room.

He does his best not to stare when she moves towards him, pulls the chair opposite out and removes her baseball cap and sunglasses. Her hair is the same colour as it was the last time he saw her, but unevenly cut to her shoulders, and she's wearing white instead of the grey or black he's used to, but her eyes are the same. Green as he remembers, and looking at him. Her gaze sweeping over the disguise he's still having to work every second to maintain, and finally she says, "I like you blonde."

"I like your hair like this," he says, stilted and awkward and everything he wishes their friendship wasn't. Their relationship. He doesn't know whether he can still consider her a friend. Or the something more he thinks she was maybe becoming.

"I hate it," she says shortly. "I can't hide behind it."

"Why would you want to hide?" he asks, and, "You're beautiful," slips out before he's bitten the words back, and he ducks his head in embarrassment. Refusing to look at her.

"Maybe because there's an international manhunt for me," she hisses, and he just nods wordlessly while the gap between them seems to yawn wider. A chasm, separating them. The one who signed the Accords, and the one who didn't.

The waitress takes their orders, and he feels the tension drain from him when her gaze doesn't linger on either of them. She doesn't recognise them. Shredding her napkin into tiny pieces, Wanda finally looks up and quietly asks, "How's Rhodey?"

"He's...stable," Vision answers, guilt gnawing hot at the back of his neck. "They're working on a device so he can walk again. I think he's rather been enjoying Tony waiting on him hand and foot." He leans back to let the waitress set their matching bowls of soup and Wanda's cup of tea on the table between them, and says, "Clint and Scott are both back with their families. House arrest."

"I know," Wanda says, not meeting his eyes while she butters her roll and stirs her tea until the pale gold surface is a whirlpool. "We look at the papers and listen to the radio whenever we can." She glances up at her, her eyes so  _green_  in her make-up-free face. "Are you helping with the upgrades on the Raft?"

"Of course not," he says simply. "I would  _never_." Glancing at her, seeing everything different, something hot spiking in his gut noticing the yellow bruising around her neck, the silvery scar, he says, "I wouldn't help them after what they did to you."

She's silent for too long, eating her food and sipping her tea and not meeting his eyes, and he's just staring anxiously at her, trying to eat past the twisting in his stomach, how terrified he is that he's ruined everything. After the effort she went to to make sure he would be able to find her, after all the work that went into developing the disguise so they could be in public, he's ruined it in one sentence.

"Can we walk?" she asks, and he nods. Pulls several bills out of his wallet and leaves them on the table, and they walk back into the sunlight side by side. Not like it used to be. Like he wishes it still was. In tense silence, until they reach a children's park and Wanda grabs his wrist to pull him inside. There are still enough people making noise that no one glances their way, and she looks at him and asks, "Did you know?"

"Know what?" he asks, and he's horrified to see that there are tears in her eyes. "Wanda?"

"Did you know about the collar?" she asks, a hitch in her voice, her words tremulous with emotion. "Did you know we'd go to the Raft because of a document none of us ever signed? Did you  _know_?"

"I didn't," he says, and she looks at him with wounded eyes. Betrayal in every inch of her expression, and the guilt is oppressive, he wants to hold her but he doesn't know if she'll push him away. He doesn't know if he could handle being pushed away. "I promise you. I didn't know about any of that until I saw the news footage. Please believe me. Please trust me."

"You promised you'd protect me," she breathes, and a tear falls, and he  _aches_  to brush it away. To take care of her like he did after Sokovia, reassuring her and soothing her sobs and holding her while her tears subsided. "You  _promised_. But when they came for me, you...you just stood there."

"I'm so sorry," he says helplessly. "There was nothing I could do that wouldn't make it worse. I...I would've been no use to you arrested." He bows his head in defeat and says, "But I failed you. I know I did. And I'm sorry."

She stares at him for a long, still moment. Then she throws her arms around him and her face is buried in his chest, her shoulders shuddering with her sobs, and he's putting a tentative hand at the small of her back, resting his chin on her head. "I'm sorry," she says, muffled into his shirt. "I shouldn't...I shouldn't blame you. This is no one's fault. No one's, and everyone's." She lifts her head, her eyes shining with tears, her cheeks silvery with them, and gives him a weak smile. "I missed you so much."

"I missed you too," he says quietly, and she shakes her head fondly, tears sticking her eyelashes together.

"Then hug me properly, Vizh," she says, and the nickname warms him from the top of his head to his toes, bringing her closer. Remembering the way they fit together. Her hair soft under the hand he has resting on the back of her head, holding her close. The way she rubs her cheek into his shirt and nestles closer. How peaceful he feels holding her.

On the overnight train that will get him to the airport, on a flight that'll get him back to the compound before anyone can really notice his absence, he remembers sharing a bed with her when her nightmares were bed. The way she snuffles when she's asleep, stubbornly wrapping her arms more firmly around him if he ever moves. And he smiles into the darkness, ghosting a finger over the burning spot on his cheek where she pressed her lips when they said goodbye.

He has another scrap of paper in his pocket. Another street and address and time to engrave into his heart. Something to look forward to.

* * *

**2.**

Ducking her head again when someone meets her eyes, pulling her scarf higher over her face at a cold gust of wind, Wanda starts when her phone rings, hastening to answer before it brings too much attention to her. "You're late," she says, and hears Vision's sigh at the other end of the line.

"Delayed trains," he says apologetically, and she just bites at her lip, twisting one of the tassels on her scarf and shrinking further back under the striped awning of the café she's waiting outside at an ominous boom of thunder overhead. "I'm almost there."

"How almost?" she asks, shaking her newly-dyed black hair over her face when someone squints at her across the street.

"Look left," he says, and she jerks around to find him rushing towards her. Giving her a moment to watch the way the wind lifts his hair and appreciate the cut of his black coat over his shoulders before he's reached her and she's beaming and throwing her arms around him, stretching up to kiss his cheek.

"I thought you weren't coming," she says softly, and feels him shake his head, holding her briefly closer before he releases her.

"I wouldn't miss out on seeing you," he says, lifting her hand to his lips to kiss her fingertips, smiling into her eyes and making her heart skip a beat. "I like your hair."

"You should see Nat, she decided to dye hers green," she says, and he laughs quietly, their fingers tangling together, and she finds herself looking at his lips before she forces herself to glance away. "It suits her, of course. Everything does."

"Everything suits you too," he says, and she wills herself not to blush. Any colour that spills across her cheeks can be blamed on the biting cold of the wind, of course. Not the compliments her best friend is giving her.

"You wouldn't turn and run if I turned up for a meeting with green hair?" she teases, quirking an eyebrow at her, and he just smiles, tucking her hair behind her ear and making her shiver, though she tries hard to mask it.

"I think you'd look fantastic with green hair, Wanda," he says, so sweet and sincere, and she just smiles, clasping their hands tightly together. Feeling the warmth of his skin against hers, protecting her against the chill, and pulling him into the café behind them, the walls papered in Halloween decorations and horror movie themes playing quietly from the ceiling speakers.

"Go sit down, Vizh," she says, reluctantly letting go of his hand, and asks the barista for, "An Earl Grey and a hot chocolate, and a slice of gingerbread loaf to share." He smiles and nods and she hands over what money she has, unwinding her scarf to curl up next to Vision in their booth, his arm going around her the way it would back at the compound, before everything was turned upside-down.

"How is everyone?" he asks, very quiet, his mouth so close to her ear that she shudders, involuntarily moving closer to him, their sides pressed tightly together. He never tries to move away, only holds her closer, and she wonders if he would ever have a limit. What he'd think if she draped herself across him, or climbed into his lap, or turned his head to face hers and kissed him. Like she thought of doing before they were pushed apart by circumstance. Like she's been dreaming of since they started to meet up again.

"They're okay," she says, giving the barista who brings them their drinks a smile. "Sam wants to go out for Halloween, he keeps trying to drag us all into his ideas for group costumes. Steve's growing a beard, and Nat keeps teasing him about it." Picking a piece of gingerbread loaf for herself, she asks, "How's everyone on your side?"

"I assume you know Tony and Pepper are engaged," he says, and she nods. "They're already planning the wedding. I've never seen him this happy." He goes quiet for a moment, and she dares to hope it's because he's thinking of her. She's caught the way he looks at her, always desperately hoping that it isn't her idealising something that isn't there at all. Surely he wouldn't kiss her hand and hug her so tightly and hold her hand gently in his if he didn't feel anything. "Rhodey is away guiding a mission."

"So how are they not noticing you leaving?" she asks, and he breaks their gaze, looking down at the surface of his hot chocolate. "Vizh?"

"Technically we can come and go as we please," he says. "There aren't enough resources for upgrading the Raft, trying to find the escaped prisoners and trailing myself, Mr. Stark and Colonel Rhodes all at once. But if I were to find conflict somewhere, I can't get involved without permission." He meets her eyes, and quietly says, "But no one's following me, if that's what you're worried about."

"I wasn't worried," she says, and he raises an eyebrow at her. "Okay, I was. I just...I wanna be free to spend time with you. I'm already lying to the other three so I can see you. I hate the thought of you lying too."

"It's worth it to see you," he says, and she flushes, helplessly smiling. It means so much, knowing that he wants to see her, that they're both going out of their way and telling lies to steal these moments together. "I'd rather do this than spend all my time alone because no one wants to send me on missions."

"Poor thing, stuck in a mansion that has a swimming pool," she coos, and he just shakes his head.

"Even a mansion feels empty without you there," he says, and he's so sincere. Everything he says is, even when it would sound like a pick-up line coming from anyone else, and she blushes and ducks her head.

He takes her hand when they leave, and she wonders what he thinks of handholding. If he's under the impression that it's just a friendly gesture, when for her she thinks he must be at least a little interested. At least to her, friends don't walk around unfamiliar towns holding hands. Especially the way he does it, pulling her close to his side.

He's stopping to admire the paintings displayed and tastefully lit in a window, while she leans into his side and lets the way he talks about colour and composition wash over her, when she feels the prickling of someone watching her. Turns her head and feels a terrible cold grip her when she sees a police officer staring at her. "Vizh," she hisses out of the corner of her mouth, stopping the soothing flow of his voice. "He's looking at us."

"Who?" he asks, and she inclines her head ever so slightly to indicate the police officer. Now frowning, and pulling his radio from the clip in his belt, and she's trembling. Vision is gripping her hand tighter, briefly, and then putting an arm around her and turning her away, and she's jogging slightly to keep up with the pace of his walking.

When she tries to turn her head to check if he's following them, Vision pulls her forward, murmuring, "Don't look, you'll give him another chance to see your face." As they sharply round a corner, he looks down at her and says, "Hold onto me. Tightly."

She grips the lapels of his coat so tightly her knuckles are white, and he phases them through a wall together, cradling her head to his chest in the damp darkness. Her panicked breathing is so loud in the silence, and he's shushing her, stroking her hair, and bending his head to brush a kiss to the top of her head. The longer he holds her, the more her pounding heart is for an entirely different reason than fear. Feeling the way he holds her, the solid warmth of his body, his breath against her skin, and imagining how easy it would be to just lift her head and kiss him.

After what feels like hours, he holds her again and phases them back into the streets. Night has fallen, and she's trying to steady her breathing, even with him brushing dust from her shoulders. "Let's get to a hotel," he says, and she hopes she's not imagining the slight shake in his voice.

They find a hostel to stay in for the night, and she's silent while he fusses around the tiny room, mind in turmoil. With her heart still pounding, she finally manages to say, "Thank you."

"Of course," he says, and looks at her, and she loses herself for a moment in his eyes. "Didn't I promise I'd protect you?" He clasps her hands in his, and says, "I let you down once. I will never let you down again."

She gazes at him for a moment, and with a flick of her hand closes the curtains and locks the door. Presses her finger to his forehead to see the faint glow of the mind stone, and watch the disguise fade into the Vision she's always known. "You didn't let me down," she says softly, and he bows his head in shame. " _Vizh_. It wasn't your fault."

"I have to protect you," he insists, and he's raising his hands to cup her face, and her breathing is going shallow. "If I hadn't...if I had just  _thought_ , maybe you wouldn't be in this situation. You wouldn't be on the run. I...I should've kept my promise." He's gazing down at her with so much behind his eyes, and her heart seems about to pound out of her chest. "I should've protected you. Because I... _Wanda_ , I..."

He kisses her, before she can even process the fact that he's leaning in. And her eyes fall closed, and her hands find purchase on his shoulders, and she's trying to memorise everything. The feel of his lips against hers, how warm they are, the taste of him, and the stutter in his breath when he jerks away, and lets go of her completely. "I'm sorry," he says, and turns away.

Staring at the hunch of his shoulders, she unwraps her scarf and unbuttons her coat, letting it all fall into a pile on the threadbare carpet and setting a gentle hand on his shoulder. "Vizh," she breathes, and he turns to look at her, and she reaches for the buttons on his coat, slowly pushing the halves apart until they fall. "You don't have to apologise."

"But-"

"I want you to kiss me," she says, and his eyes go wide, his mouth closing as his words die away. "I want you." Lifting herself tentatively onto her tiptoes, her gaze darting between his eyes and his lips, she drapes her arms around his neck and kisses him.

She's never known before how much passion he had bottled beneath his calm surface. But she knows it in the way he grips her, returns her kiss, pulls her tight against his body, and doesn't protest when she steers him towards the bed and down. Only breaking away to ask, "Are you sure?" and watching her with wide eyes when she guides his hands to the hem of her sweater.

He holds her close when they finally separate, his eyes bright in the warmth of the nightstand lamp, and she traces her finger down a plate of vibranium curving along his chest and grins. "I've waited a long time for that," she says softly, and he ducks his head bashfully.

"I, um...I liked it," he murmurs, and she leans over to kiss him, feeling his fingers flex against the small of her back. "You're amazing."

"Thank you," she says, and giggles when he looks embarrassed again. Leaning in to kiss him, and enjoying the way he pulls her closer, the lazy kissing until they're both too tired to keep their eyes open.

She's woken by the harsh trill of his alarm, and walks him to the train station. They're holding hands, and she can't stop smiling every time she looks at him, and yet when he turns around there's doubt on his face. "Wanda, I..." He swallows thickly and says, "I understand if you want, um...if you want what happened last night to just be a-a-a one-time thing."

"Why would I want that?" she asks, and he shrugs. "Vizh, I  _like_  you. I've liked you for a very,  _very_  long time. I don't want to forget that we had sex."

"Oh. Well, um..." He shuffles his feet like a teenager, while she just smiles fondly up at him, and concludes, "That's good, then. Because I don't want to forget either."

"Great, then we're agreed," she says, and he nods. "Can I kiss you goodbye?"

"You can kiss me whenever you want," he says, and she grins and leans up to do just that.

* * *

**3.**

Fidgeting with his clothes, systematically smoothing his shirt over and over again, he shakes his head at the food and beverage cart passing by and tries to bury himself in a book, to lose himself to the stories woven on the page. But his gaze keeps wandering, and he sees the headline of the newspaper a young man seated nearby is reading. Looking at the bold black  _NEAR-MISS IN NORWAY_  and trying not to remember Secretary Ross' fury that the four escaped Raft prisoners slipped right through their hands. Not to think about the dire consequences that would befall him - and worse,  _Wanda_  - if Ross found out that he's been sneaking away to see her.

The train pulling into its station quiets Vision's frantically humming mind, and he grabs his suitcase from the luggage rack and makes his way out onto the platform trying to leave his worries behind. Ross thinks he's on a mission tailing a recent lead on an arms dealer case, and no one will be any the wiser that he's sneaking away to be with Wanda. No one will question his absence as long as he checks in and is back within the week.

He catches sight of Wanda on the platform and feels himself smiling helpless, warmth sprawling through his chest, and pushes through the barriers. A pair of bright blue balloons are swaying around her head in the rushes of air prompted by the trains entering and leaving the station, and when he reaches her she pulls a bunch of sunflowers from behind her back and smiles up at him. "Happy birthday," she says sweetly, pressing the flowers into his stunned hands.

"Wanda, I..." He gazes at her wide-eyed for a moment, noticing that her hair is now almost back to the length it was before the Raft, that she's dyed it a light brown that brings out the pale freckles scattered across the bridge of her nose, before he swallows and says, "I don't celebrate my birthday."

"Well, I do," she says, stretching up to kiss his cheek and tying the string of one of the balloons around his wrist in a deft manoeuvre. "We celebrated my birthday, so we're celebrating yours too. Now come on, I did my best to spoil you."

"This is unnecessary," he says, and she turns to him, her face shadowed in momentary sadness. "I...I don't age. Birthdays are just an arbitrary date to me."

"Then think of it as the day we met," she says, draping an arm around his neck, her fingertips sinking into his hair and sending a shiver down his spine. "Isn't that worth celebrating?" She links their hands together and grins, "You're only two once, babe. Let me celebrate."

Looking down at her, her shining eyes and her smile, he's overwhelmed by the  _fondness_  he feels, and leans down to kiss her, feeling her grinning against his mouth. "Perhaps you shouldn't proclaim my age to the world quite so loudly," he says when they part, and she laughs softly.

"I'm so lucky you like older women," she teases, and he shakes his head, unable to keep the smile off his face. "Does being with you make me a cougar?"

"You're twenty-two," he points out, and she grins.

"Let a girl dream," she says, and laces their fingers together to pull him out of the train station, his suitcase rattling over the uneven paving of the streets and the late spring rain freshening the air.

She leaves him waiting outside their hotel room with only a secretive smile, taking his suitcase with her, and he leans on the wall while he listens to her rattling around inside, unable to stop smiling. As soon as he's with her, he just feels incapable of being anything but happy. Holding her hand, hugging her,  _kissing_  her - it's all everything he could ever have dreamed of, and so much more. Wanda has made him lighter, filled his life with a joy he's never known, and the days he can spend with her make every lie he tells worth it.

The door swings open again and her hand is over his eyes, and she's insisting, "No  _peeking_!" as she guides him inside. When she pulls her hand away in a flourish, he's looking at their tiny hotel room transformed. She's tied the balloons to the end of the bed, and set out a plain metal tray with two glasses of lemonade, and a small chocolate cake with a candle shaped like the number two burning on top of it, and there's a small pile of presents waiting behind it. And Wanda is beaming up at his incredulous expression, setting a glittery striped party hat on top of his head, kissing his shoulder and whispering, "Happy birthday, Vizh."

"You didn't have to do this," he says, choked up all of a sudden, and she just crosses the room for her lemonade, beaming at him.

"You've made me so happy, celebrating your birthday when no one else will is the least I could do," she says, and holds out a hand. "Come and blow out your candle!"

He crosses the room like he's in a dream, sitting carefully at the edge of the bed while she softly sings  _Happy Birthday_  to him, and when the candle's flame snuffs out in a curlicue of smoke he laughs at her applause, and pulls her up to kiss her. "Thank you," he says, and she just grins. "You're wonderful."

"Open your presents!" she exclaims, her enthusiasm so sweet, and he shells them carefully open. She climbs up onto the bed next to him and explains each one as she opens them, and he's content to listen, letting her voice wash over him. "I found these books in a tiny second-hand store, I thought you might like them. And I wanted to get you something to keep you warm, but you already have enough sweaters so I thought a scarf was better."

"And this?" he asks, carefully unwrapping the layer of tissue paper around a glass bottle, and a blush spills over Wanda's cheekbones, her hair falling forward in a curtain around her face when she ducks her head bashfully.

"You said you don't like being away from me and having nothing that smells like me," she says quietly. "So, I...that's my perfume. I thought maybe you could just have it in the compound and when...if you're missing me, you can use it?" She shakes her head and says, "I'm sorry, it's stupid-"

He cuts her off with a kiss, tucking her hair gently behind her ear to cup her cheek, and smiles into her eyes when they break apart. "Thank you," he says, and she smiles slightly. "You're so thoughtful. You didn't have to do this."

"I wanted to," she says. "Do you wanna have a slice of cake? I booked a restaurant for tonight, a little seafood place."

"What time is the reservation?" he asks, and she smirks, shifting the tray between them aside to press a soft kiss to his neck, trailing her fingertips down the buttons on his shirt.

"Not until seven," she says, and grins when he pulls her on top of him.

Out in the world that night, it feels natural. It almost feels like they're just a normal couple enjoying time together, her hair loose around her bare shoulders and her head on his shoulder, the soft music in the quiet restaurant letting them sit and talk, and hold hands walking through the dark streets. When she shivers, he takes his blazer off to drape it around her shoulders, and she smiles, curling into his side.

He wants them to be normal. Just on a weekend away, staying in their tiny hotel room, cutting themselves slices of cake and cuddling up in bed together, the slant of her smile when she sets their plates aside and kisses him. Her warmth next to him, the sweetness of her breath on the back of his neck, the way she murmurs in her sleep. With Wanda, it feels natural. It feels  _normal_.

Until the moment he's woken in the middle of the night by his phone ringing, and it's Tony on the other end telling him, "There's been an attack from suspected arms dealers not far from you, go check it out. Ross says you can use force but no killing, they want anyone captured for questioning."

He shakes Wanda awake, and leans down to kiss her forehead. "I have to go," he says, and she blinks blearily up at him, undisguised disappointment shadowing her face. "I'm sorry, Wanda. Duty calls."

"Okay," she says reluctantly, straightening up. Even in the gloom, she's so beautiful, her eyes shining and how soft she is from sleep, cupping a hand to his cheek. "Go save the world, Superman."

He kisses her first, her mouth warm and pliant against his, and tries to memorise every moment, knowing he'll be holding onto this kiss until the next time he can see her. "I'll call you when I get done with all this," he promises, and she just nods, already rolling over to go back to sleep.

Walking out of the hotel after settling the bill for Wanda, he reluctantly flies away from her. Hidden away watching the derelict entrance of a building for anyone coming or going, he sprays her perfume on his scarf and waits. It's almost like she's next to him.

But missing her aches just as badly.

* * *

**4.**

The alarm on her phone echoes around the bathroom, and she winces, glad that Vision is gone to pick up dinner and isn't in their hotel room. If he knew what she was doing, she's not sure how he'd respond. It's better that she has this moment by herself first, to look at her future.  _Their_  future.

Hand shaking, she reaches out to pick up the test, not looking at it yet. One line, she's not pregnant. Two lines, she is. And her head and heart are flip-flopping back and forth so fast between hoping for one line and hoping for two that she has no idea how she feels about the potential. About having a baby. Being a mother. Vision being a father. Them being a  _family_.

When she turns the test over, there's only one line. She's not pregnant. Of course she's not, it was foolish to think she was. And yet she  _wanted_  to be. There are tears in her eyes, and she's throwing the test aside and holding her head in her heads, her breath hitching over the sobs that want to escape. It seems so silly to cry over something she never had, and yet she'd begun to think of having it. Being pregnant, telling Vision, and seeing him smile. A baby in her arms, a little boy with Vision's blue eyes. They could be so happy as a family.

The door to their hotel room swings open, she hears it, and she hastily wraps the pregnancy test, the negative result glowing luridly, in paper and tosses it into the trash can. Tries to forget how badly she wants to curl up in the corner of the shower and cry, pinning a smile on her face before she leaves the bathroom to find Vision carefully setting Chinese take-away out on trays, and smiles at him. "You really don't have to plate our takeout," she says, and he looks up and grins at her.

"I want to," he says, and leans over to kiss the top of her head, concern in his eyes searching her face. "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine," she says lightly, and reaches for the neat carton of fried rice. "I just wish you didn't have to leave tomorrow."

"I can come back soon," he says, and she shrugs, and he leans over the tray of their food to tuck her hair behind her ear and kiss her.

She knows she's being quieter than usual while they eat, and she can feel the weight of his gaze on her, but she doesn't have the energy to try and reassure him. If things were different, they would be celebrating right now. She could be telling him that she's pregnant, they're having a baby, they're going to be a family. And he would be happy, she's sure of it. He would embrace the idea of her being pregnant completely, and he would smile in that way she knows so well and hold her close. They could be just another couple having their first child.

"You're not fine," Vision finally says when they're finished with their food, and she tries desperately to swallow the tears trying to escape. "Wanda? What's wrong?"

" _Nothing_ ," she chokes out, but there are tears she can't hide in her eyes, and concern is painted across Vision's face when he reaches to cup her face.

"Tell me," he says softly, and tears spill over when she tries to blink them away, his thumb warm on her cheek dabbing them away. "Please, Wanda."

"I just...I thought I might be pregnant, and I took a test, and I'm not," she says softly, sniffing hard to try and stop her voice thickening with emotion. "And I know it's stupid to be upset over something I never had, but I can't  _help_ -"

"Why did you think you might be pregnant?" he asks, and she looks up into his eyes and doesn't see the same warmth there. His hands move away from her face, he's pulling away from her, and there's something she can't read in his expression. Something she doesn't like.

"Because I skipped a period after having frequent unprotected sex with you," she says, and he's just looking at her with something almost like pity in his eyes. "But I'm not pregnant. You don't have to worry about that. I'm just upset because I  _wanna_  be a mom, one day, and I thought that maybe now was the time. But it's not meant to be."

"You want to have children?" he asks, and she nods, dragging the corner of her sleeve over her eyes to blot up the remaining tears. "Wanda...why would you think you're pregnant? I...I  _can't_  conceive."

"We don't  _know_  that," she says, unsettled by the sudden sharpness in his voice. "Between your magic and mine, we  _could_. You think I would've jumped to the conclusion that I was pregnant if we knew for sure that we couldn't have a baby?"

"It's a sign," he says, very quietly. Almost to himself. Then he's looking up at her, and his eyes are hard, and the bottom is dropping out of her stomach, sudden tears stinging behind her eyes. "Wanda..."

"Don't," she says sharply, and he's just looking at her with so much sadness shadowing his face.

"The time we've spent together has been delightful," he says, and she's crying, shaking her head, trying to block him out. "But I always knew that I was just a...a distraction to you. I was temporary."

"You weren't, you  _weren't_ ,  _stop_ it!"

"I can't give you everything you want," he says solemnly. "I'm not human, Wanda, and we can't pretend I am. Your life with me will never be normal. It's better for me to leave now, for us to stop pretending. You can meet someone else, someone who can give you marriage and stability and the children you want."

"I never wanted children until  _you_!" she sobs out, unable to stop the flow of tears, watching Vision stand up and silently collect his bags, not even looking at her. "Vision,  _stop it_! I don't want some other man, I want  _you_. I don't  _care_  about normal!"

"You say that now, but what will you think in a year?" he asks softly, but he still isn't looking at her. "When the people around you start to get married and have children and you're trapped with me? Doing this now is what's best for you."

"Don't I get a say in what's best for me?!" she snaps, and he finally turns his head. And where she was hoping to see him crying, devastated, to see his mind changing, there's only solemn resignation. A sense that he's just doing his duty. "Vizh..."

"I'm sorry," he says. And he walks away from her. The door swings closed behind him and she's left huddled at the end of the bed, tears streaking hot down her cheeks. He  _leaves_ , and she's watching him go with hollowness hurting in her chest.

But in a second, she rallies. He will not walk away from her. She won't let him. Opening the door onto the tiny rickety balcony barely clinging to the side of the hotel, she sees him striding through the rain, his shoulders slumped. He doesn't look like he's walking away for anyone's good, and she climbs over the balcony railing, red swelling beneath her hands as she sweeps down through the rain and lands in front of him, already soaked to the skin, and he's wide-eyed. "Wanda-"

"You don't get to choose this!" she snaps, rain running into her eyes and her heart pounding with adrenaline and anger and  _adoration_ , how much she feels for this man, the man who has lied and lied and lied to be with her, who came to her when she was at her lowest and helped her find her way back to being happy, who she would be happy to have a baby with. "You don't get to walk away from me! Not like this! Not when you're only doing it because of your stupid martyr complex!"

"It's what's best for-"

"It's  _not_  what's best for me!" she shouts at him, and he looks stunned. "You're not just a distraction to me, Vision. I never wanted stability or a family until you made me believe there could be someone out there I could have it with! You think I would sneak around and lie to everyone I care about and risk getting caught to see you if I just wanted to have sex with you for a while then end it?!"

"But-"

"No! There's no 'but'!" She moves closer to him, his hand white-knuckled wrapped around the handle of his suitcase, and cups her hands to his rain-soaked face. " _You_  are what's best for me. Being with you makes me happier than I ever imagined being after Pietro died. I don't  _care_  about children or marriage or whatever else you think keeps us apart. All I want is you. What is so impossible about that that you can't understand it?"

"But...I...I'm not human, Wanda." He's looking down at her with sadness in his eyes, a sadness that makes her ache. She can't comprehend how someone so kind and compassionate and  _wonderful_  can think that they are somehow lesser than the people around them.

"You're not," she says, and he gives her a wounded look. "And neither am I. We're  _more_ , Vizh. I don't want you because you're human. I want the  _real_  you, all of you. You're kinder than anyone I've ever known, you see the beauty in everything, you'd fight until your last breath for everyone on this planet. You're so much more than human, and I want you  _because_  of that. Not in spite of it."

He stares at her for a long moment, eyes wide, and she reaches up and kisses him. Not waiting for him to talk, because there are words she's scared to say building in her throat, and kissing distracts her. Especially when his response is so intensely passionate, pulling her against him, sinking his fingers into her rain-soaked hair, and he's lifting her into his arms, her legs tangling around his waist. She only knows from the rush of wind that he's flying away from the ground, back to the hotel balcony, and they're both dripping water all over the threadbare carpet when they stagger into the room, a flick of her hand closing the balcony doors and the curtains over them.

"You're shivering," he breathes, hands at the small of her back, cradling her, and she just kisses him again, moving her hand to the mind stone and phasing his disguise away, smiling softly at him.

"Then I'm going to shower to warm up," she says, and unwinds her legs from around him. She stifles her grin at the disappointment that blossoms across his face, and kisses his cheek. "You're going to join me."

"Right," he says, and rushes into the bathroom before her, and she grins at his endearing enthusiasm before she follows him.

When she's sitting cross-legged on the bed rubbing her hair dry, one of his sweaters thrown over her shorts, he's watching her, and she looks up and smiles into his eyes. "Did you really mean it?" he asks, and she tilts her head quizzically. "That you didn't want children until we started this?"

"Why would I lie?" she asks, and he shrugs. "I never wanted kids. My life was so terrible that I didn't want to bring more children into a world that would only be cruel to them. But then you happened. And you see so much happiness and beauty in the world, I started to see it too. I started to see that maybe the world isn't so bad."

"And you really want to be with me?" he asks, and she beckons him closer. Pulls him in by the open halves of his shirt and kisses him.

"No one else," she promises. And he finally smiles and relaxes into the kiss.

Even though he still has to leave in the morning, they have this stolen moment. One more to add to all the moments she cherishes.

* * *

**5.**

The streets are lined with fairy lights in red and green and white, gleaming around every shop window, a Christmas tree laden in baubles and tinsel rising out of the town square, carols playing from every speaker, and Vision is pulling his scarf tighter around his neck, dropping a few coins into the charity bucket a young girl shakes hopefully in his direction and softening at the gap-toothed smile she gives him. "Merry Christmas!" she chirps, and he just smiles. With her dark hair sticking out from under her hat and her freckles, she could almost be Wanda's daughter.

"Merry Christmas," he says, and she  _beams_  at him. He thinks about her smile walking to the hotel, the momentary thought that she could be Wanda's child. And Wanda says she only started to want children because of their relationship. Maybe they  _could_  have a daughter one day.

There's a keycard waiting for him at the reception of the hostel, the man behind the counter arching an eyebrow at him that makes a blush creep up the back of his neck, and he takes the stairs two at a time to the room. It's been two months since he could sneak away to see Wanda, and he's managed to get a full week with her. To spend Christmas with her, even though Tony dramatically declared the team was falling apart when he offered to take a mission that would keep him away for the festive season.

When he slides the door open to their room, Wanda is a huddled mass in the bed, tangled in the blankets, and he rushes across the room when she opens her mouth and starts coughing instead of being able to say anything. He tries to lean over her but she presses a hand to his chest and croaks, "Don't get too close. I don't wanna get you sick."

"I can't get sick," he says, and kisses her forehead, pressing the back of his hand to her overheated skin in concern. "How long have you been ill?"

"Steve was coughing last week, but stupid idiot only had it for a day before his stupid serum blood got rid of it," she says pathetically, straightening up. Her newly-dyed red hair only accentuates how pale she is, her eyes dull, and her nose very red. "I thought I might get better, but I woke up feeling  _worse_." She blinks blearily at him and says, "You don't have to stay. I'm not gonna be much fun."

"Don't be silly," he says, and drops another kiss on her forehead. "We said we'd spend Christmas together, and I'm not leaving just because you're ill."

"You're sweet," she mumbles, and he grins and kisses her. She presses their foreheads together when he breaks away, reaching up to unwrap his scarf, and says, "You don't have to worry about me. You're worrying."

"I'll go buy chicken soup," he says, and she giggles slightly before that sends her into another coughing fit. He presses a kiss to her temple and turns away, letting her pull his scarf off him to wrap around her own neck before he leaves to the nearest corner shop, his basket filled with oranges and lemons and honey and soup.

He's never had someone to take care of before. Wanda seems to like being looked after, widening her eyes at him in a pleading look until he lifts her from the bed to the armchair, blanket still tangled around her, and she's smiling at him. "You're gonna take care of me, right?" she asks softly.

"Of course I am," he says, and she climbs into his lap, tucking her head under his chin. He wraps his arms around her and kisses the top of her head, and she hums in soft approval. "I told the woman who served me in the corner shop that I was looking after someone with a cold, and she said gargling with salt water will help."

"Don't wanna," she whines, burrowing her head further into his chest, and he smiles softly. "Can I have ice cream if I do?" She lifts her head and bats her eyelashes at him. "It'll help my sore throat."

"You have to have soup first," he say, and she nods. "And gargle with saltwater. It can help with congestion."

" _Fine_." She kisses him, very softly, and says, "You're mean. You're supposed to wait on me hand and foot and give me whatever I ask for."

"Is that going to make you get better faster?"

"Yes," she says stubbornly, and he grins, kissing away the pout on her lips. He sets her back in the armchair, and she clings to his arm. "Don't leave me!"

"I have to make your soup, darling," he says, and she pouts again. "I'll come back when it's done."

"You have to cuddle me!" she says, and he smiles helplessly at how adorably needy she is. Watching salt dissolve into a glass of warm water and handing it to her, grinning at the way her face twists in utter disgust at the taste, and turning his back to heat up the cans of soup for them, buttering bread for himself.

They end up eating against the edge of the bed, Wanda pressed tightly into his side, her head on his shoulder, and he rubs her back gently when she starts to cough again, trying to calm her tensed muscles. "I hate seeing you like this," he says softly, and she sneezes before she leans on him again, pulling his arm around her.

"You're not allowed to leave," she says, and he just nods, brushing a kiss to her hair. "I can't get better without cuddles."

"I'm sure that's what the doctor says," he teases, and she just glares at him. "I'll do whatever you think I need to do to make you better."

"Ice cream," she orders, and he rolls his eyes fondly as he gets to his feet to retrieve the tub he left thawing on the counter.

He spends the few days leading up to Christmas looking after Wanda, and he truly wouldn't want it any other way. When she can't sleep because of her sore throat or her stuffy nose, he sits awake with her, reading to her, her head on his chest and his free hand slowly stroking her hair. He stays in bed with her as long as he can, holding her close, changing his core temperature to cool her down or warm her up whenever she needs it. She moves around their room shakily, never letting go of the blanket, and he cooks every meal, stirs honey into her tea and does everything he can to try and make her feel better.

Some colour is coming back into her cheeks by Christmas Eve, but she's struggling to sleep for congestion, and he rolls over to turn on the light and softly suggests, "I could run you a bath? The steam is supposed to help."

"I'd like to sleep tonight," she says, and he leans down to kiss before he climbs out of bed, turning the taps on full blast and emptying one of the hostel bubble bath bottles into the water, the entire room smelling pleasantly of rose.

He averts his eyes when Wanda undresses, not looking back until she's sunk into the bath, the bubbles up to her chin, and she's tilting her head up at him. "Aren't you going to come in with me?" she asks, and he can feel his face heating up. "Please? It would make me feel better."

When the plea in her eyes becomes too strong to resist, he sighs and strips while she grins, and slides into the pleasantly warm water behind her, enjoying her weight against his chest. "This is nice," he says softly, kissing her damp shoulder, and she tangles their fingers together, kissing softly at his fingers.

"I'm glad you're here," she says, and he smiles, sweeping her hair aside to kiss the back of her neck. "I'm glad we could spend Christmas together." Glancing back at him over her shoulder, she smiles and asks, "Will you wash my hair?"

He nods and her eyes brighten, and he enjoys every moment of it, her hair running between his fingers. "What does washing hair feel like?" he asks, and she turns her head slightly to give him a quizzical look. "I've never done it."

"Someone else washing your hair is one of the most relaxing things in the world," she says, and turns around, her hair a pile of bubbles on top of her head. "Put your disguise on, and I'll show you."

She still watches with amazed eyes when he puts his disguise on for her, and she kisses him while she rubs shampoo into his hair, and he smiles into her eyes. "It feels nice," he says, and she nods. "Maybe we should do this more often."

"Maybe we should," she says, and carefully shields his eyes with her hand while she rinses his hair. "God, it's not fair that your disguise hair is softer than my actual hair."

"I love your hair," he says. "I think the red is my favourite colour you've dyed it," he says, and she smiles. "It suits you."

"Now it's as long as it was before I cut it," she says, and he just continues to run his fingers through her hair. "Vizh?" He hums, and she looks up at him with something unreadable in her eyes. "It means a lot, you know. That you're here. Taking care of me."

"I want to be here taking care of you," he says, tracing his fingers down the curve of her spine, her skin warm and soft from the water.

She cups a hand to his cheek for a moment, smiling into his eyes. "I mean it," she says, draping her arms around his neck. "No one's ever looked after me like this before. I..." She glances down and then back up at him, smiling slightly. "You're a really good guy, Vizh. I'm glad you chose me."

"I'll always choose you," he promises, and she smiles and leans in to kiss him, water and bubbles splashing out onto the bathroom floor when he pulls her closer.

She steals another of his sweaters, huddling into it with the sleeves pulled over her hands, and he kisses her again, cupping her face between his hands, helplessly happy. "It's past midnight," she says softly, and he glances at the clock then back to her bright eyes. "Merry Christmas, Vizh."

"Merry Christmas," he replies, and she pulls him into another kiss, her fingers curled into the soft fabric of his pyjamas. "Do you want your presents now?"

"I got you something too!" she says, and reaches over for the top drawer in the nightstand, pulling out a small square wrapped in star-scattered paper. "Open it!" He pulls the paper carefully off to find a watch in a neat plastic case, and she's grinning at him, eagerly reaching to unpackage it and wrap it around his wrist. "It's second-hand, but I thought you'd like it," she says, and he's just staring at it, the worn leather strap and the hands ticking around the neat face. "And I...I set it to match with this time zone. You'll always know what time it is for me."

"I love it," he says reverently, and kisses her. "I'll always know if I can call you."

"You know I'll answer your calls no matter what time of day it is," she says, and he kisses her again, lifting his hand to the back of her head to hold her close. "What's my present?!"

He reaches to his suitcase and pulls out the wrapped box, and Wanda's eyes are wide and eager opening it, like a child. Like he imagines she might have been before her life took a tragic turn. When she opens the box, she glances up at him, and he says, "I wanted to get you a necklace because you don't wear rings much anymore. And I...I liked this one because the jewel is almost the same colour as the mind stone."

Her hand rises to press against the stone, her fingers gentle on his skin, and she smiles. "It's beautiful," she breathes, and pulls him in to kiss her, her arm around his neck. "It's  _so_  beautiful, Vizh. I'll never take it off." She giggles softly, tracing her fingers over a plate of vibranium on his face, and murmurs, "You still smell like shampoo."

"I smell like you," he says, and the possessive gleam he recognises crosses her eyes. "I like it."

"C'mere babe," she says, and he grins into the next kiss, her new necklace resting perfectly in the hollow of her throat. The jewel shining as brightly as the stone in his forehead.

Though he has to leave on Boxing Day, he kisses her for the New Year they won't get to spend together before he does, and when he turns back he can see her pale face in the window of their room, watching him go. And when he's back at the compound, he can glance at the watch around his wrist and send Wanda a text to say goodnight, and feel a connection with her.

Feel that, next time, he might not leave her at all.

* * *

**+1.**

Vision starts when the compound phone starts to ring, the only sound he's heard for hours aside from the comforting ticking of his watch. Tony is in the workshop and Rhodey is away on a mission, and he's the one who picks up the phone.

"We got one!" comes Ross' triumphant crow, and Vision just clutches the phone tighter, breath catching in his throat. "Well, almost. Someone called in a sighting of Maximoff in London and my men are on the way to her now. Before she can get away." There's such smug satisfaction in his voice, and Vision is cold all over, hardly able to breathe. "And when we find her, Rogers, Romanoff and Wilson can't be far behind."

The phone slips from Vision's grasp, crashing to the floor, and he leaves the office, phasing through several walls and the floor to get to his room. His suitcase is still half-packed, and he finds himself instinctually piling newly-cleaned clothes in before he pauses. Can he really just  _leave_? Disappearing for a few days or a week at a time to see Wanda under the guise of gathering information in Europe is one thing, but leaving to help her is quite different. If he does this, he's breaking the Accords. He becomes a fugitive too.

But, when he thinks of Wanda in a cell, all alone, waiting to be sent back to the Raft and that collar, he can't just stay still. He has to finish throwing all the pieces of his life into a suitcase, and say goodbye to the place he's called home for almost three years. But not really. The compound isn't his home. Wanda is.

He doesn't even leave a note for Tony and Rhodey. They'll assume, they'll know, and he dares to hope they'll understand. He takes his life and leaves the compound, flies away from everything he's been before this moment. In this one action, he isn't an Avenger anymore. He's just a man, going to help the woman he adores. The woman he, in moments of vulnerable lonely thought, thinks he might even love. If such a thing is possible for someone like him.

When he reaches London, every TV screen in the restaurant he walks into to gain his bearings is flashing the bulletin  _FORMER AVENGER WANDA MAXIMOFF CAPTURED_. The photograph they use for her is two years old, her long dark hair rather than the red hair she's had since Christmas, and he's clenching his finger around his glass, teeth gritted tightly.

He leaves his suitcase in a locker at the train station, and sets out in search of the secret bunker where Wanda is being held. Moving like a liquid shadow through the streets, phasing through walls and following the whispers of men to find his way to the guarded bunker. Creeping up behind the man guarding the doors and darting forward to wrap an arm around his neck, pressing just hard enough to be frightening. "Where's Wanda?" he asks, and his voice doesn't sound quite like his own. Low, and threatening, and dangerous. "Ms. Maximoff, where is she?" There's only silence, and he presses his arm harder into the soldier's throat and snarls, " _Where is she_?!"

"In a cell," the soldier says. "But you'll never get to her. There are fifty guards in here, and only one of you."

"You clearly have no idea who I am," Vision says, and presses his elbow into the soldier's throat until the young man crumples, unconscious. Cape swinging behind him, he turns and phases through the doors, and silences the warning shout of the soldier with a swift throw against the wall.

Twenty more attack him, and he leaves them all unconscious. He's driven by a steadfast force, the need to save Wanda, to take her away from all of this and find a place where they can just be  _together_ , where they can be happy. The thirty-first soldier to attack him is the one he forces to disable the alarm, and he chokes them into unconsciousness too, storming through the facility and phasing through one last wall to the room with a cell. And Wanda slumped on the floor, her head tipped forward, a hopeless crumpled heap.

And then she looks up and sees him, and he can see the light come back into her face, and she scrambles to her feet with a sob of, " _Vizh_!" He rushes to her, grasping her hands frantically between the bars of the cell, and there are tears shining on her cheeks. "How did you  _find_  me?"

"I just had to," he says, moving as close as he can to kiss her hand between the bars of the cell. "Are you alright? Did they hurt you?"

"Did you hurt  _them_?" she asks, and he gives the tiniest shrug, and her eyes go wide. "Vizh...you shouldn't have done that for me."

"If you're not worth it, then who is?" He kisses her hand one more time then says, "Stand back," and watches her back against the side of the cell as power gathers in the mind stone. One simple blast twists and melts the bars of the cell to make a gap wide enough for her to get out, and she throws herself into his arms, her head buried in his shoulder, and he cradles her tightly, holding her close. "It's alright," he breathes, stroking her hair, feeling the way she's shaking, the heaving shudder of her suppressing a sob. "It's alright, it's alright, it's alright. I'm here, Wanda, you're not going back to the Raft. I'll protect you."

"I can't believe you came," she breathes, and he kisses her temple, clutching her close.

"Of course I did," he says, and she pulls back in his arm, her eyes swollen-red with tears, clutching at the lapels of his coat. "I couldn't leave you. I could never leave you."

She pulls him in for the kiss first, a hard, passionate kiss that turns more tender, their lips moving slowly together, his hands cupping her face, holding her like the most precious thing in the world. It's what she is to him. Powerful and infinitely precious. Beautiful and breakable and the best thing he's ever seen. With tangled hair and tears in her eyes and her mouth quivering with suppressed emotion. "Thank you," she whispers, and he drops another, sweeter kiss on her lips.

"Oh, you're welcome," he says, and she cracks the smallest shadow of a smile. "Come on, we have to get out of here. I booked tickets on the sleeper train to Edinburgh. We can disappear there."

She holds onto him and he phases them through the roof and out onto the streets on London, gripping her hand in his running to the train station, retrieving his suitcase from the locker and pulling her through the barriers just in time to make the train. Though they have their own individual beds, she creeps into his, and he just holds her on the narrow mattress. Strokes her hair and shushes her terrified sobbing and doesn't sleep even when she finally succumbs to her exhaustion. So he's there when she wakes up whimpering from a nightmare, kissing her forehead and whispering reassurances.

While she sleeps, he finds a hotel for them in Edinburgh, books and pays through his SHIELD account before they can cut him off for leaving. When they get there, Edinburgh covered in a fine mist of rain and a chill that makes him draw Wanda protectively closer, he hardly cares to look at the luxury of the place. Only to get Wanda to their room, close the curtains and sit her on the bed, looping her hair gently back behind her ear and searching her eyes. "Are you alright?" he asks.

"I am with you," she says with a small smile, and he clasps her hands in his, pressing kisses to her fingertips. "Will you stay? Until I'm sure no one followed me? I know it's a lot to ask, with the Accords, but-"

"I'll stay as long as you want," he promises, and she smiles and tilts her head up to kiss him.

 _I'll stay forever_.

 


End file.
